


not sorry there's nothing to save

by onakissgodknows



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Colorado Rockies, Established Relationship, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Stubborn Idiots, Toronto Blue Jays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: Being back in Colorado today feels like Troy's slipped back into a past life, and judging by the way Carlos is looking at him, his past life doesn’t want him here.





	not sorry there's nothing to save

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [tulowhiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulowhiskey/pseuds/tulowhiskey) in the [boysofsummer18](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysofsummer18) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Carlos González/Troy Tulowitzki 
> 
> The first time Troy comes back to Colorado after getting traded, Carlos is really, really, REALLY pissed of about it. 
> 
> Could be angsty romance, could be gen... could be a wild AU with other reasons.
> 
> Thanks to [spilborghs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carebearstare/profile) for reading over most of this when I had a plot crisis!!
> 
> Title is from Your Ex-Lover is Dead by Stars, naturally.

_June 2016_

“Tulo!” Donaldson bellows when he sees Troy walk into the visitors’ clubhouse at Coors Field. “Where ya been?”

Troy’s arrived at the ballpark a little later than he normally would. He hasn’t been dreading it, per se, but there’s a certain significance around this series and part of Troy would just rather not deal with it. He’d rather not deal with the media circus (he’s sure Denver reporters will be all over him as soon as he’s on the field), he doesn’t want to hear the narratives they try to push, and as much as he likes his former teammates he’d rather catch up elsewhere.

Anywhere but here.

Troy looks at Donaldson, and there’s no way he’s saying all this to him. “Took a wrong turn,” he says instead, allowing himself a small smile. This isn’t a lie, either. When he arrived at the field, lost in his own thoughts, his feet had automatically begun retracing their old path to the home clubhouse. He’d been halfway there before he realized.

_They’ve probably changed the entry code by now, anyway,_ Troy told himself as he turned around and made his way to the visitors’ side. _Even if you wanted back in that clubhouse you couldn’t_.

Donaldson laughs and pounds him on the back on his way to pick up his bat. “Bet it’s weird bein’ back here, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

They take batting practice on the field, and most of Troy’s former Rockies teammates are out there, and okay – it’s a lot less awkward than Troy feared. It’s nice, even. Nolan throws himself at him with a joyous yell and hugs him tight. Charlie Blackmon gives him a bear hug and DJ shakes his hand with as big a smile as DJ’s ever given him.

Carlos Gonzalez isn’t on the field, which is disappointing but not surprising. Troy chats with the rest of them, listens to Nolan go off on a tangent about nothing, and then as everyone is dispersing to get ready for the game, he hangs back to talk to Nolan.

“Hey, where’s CarGo?” he asks casually, like he’s only just noticed his absence and he’s asking out of curiosity, not out of…whatever you’d call this.

Nolan blinks at him in surprise. “Oh, uh, I dunno? He said he might miss BP. Weiss was cool with it.” He shrugs. “You’ll see him later probably.”

“Yeah, probably,” Troy echoes. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s being avoided.

Troy’s first at-bat comes in the second inning, and the crowd is so loud he has to step out of the box for a moment, just to give them time to calm down.

The noise doesn’t stop, and what can Troy do? He takes his cap off and waves it to the crowd. It’s louder than he remembers them being, but maybe he’s just not used to it. He hasn’t been here in so long.

He steps back into the batter’s box and tries not to glance toward right field.

-

_October 6 th, 2009_

_The first time they kissed was all the way back in 2009. Troy had been there a couple of years by then, but it was Carlos’s first year with the club; he was the new guy with the sweet swing and sweeter smile. They were in Philadelphia for the NLDS, and it was a cold October night. The two of them made their way onto the roof of the hotel where they were staying the night before game one of the division series. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be up there, but who was going to stop them? They were young and fearless and on top of the world._

_Troy was shivering in his windbreaker, but pretended he wasn’t. The sun was almost down and the city lights were shining below them and Carlos’s profile was a dark outline against the horizon._

_It was so ridiculously romantic and Troy barely even noticed._

_Carlos stood on the edge of the roof and glanced over his shoulder at Troy, grinning._

_“You look like you’re about to jump,” Troy said._

_“Maybe I feel like I can fly.”_

_Troy frowned. “You can’t. Get away from there.”_

_Carlos laughed and backed away. “You worried about me, Tulo?”_

_“You never seem like you need me to.”_

_“Nah, but I wouldn’t mind if you did.” He winked at Troy. “You get protective. It’s very sweet.”_

_Troy didn’t really think of himself as particularly sweet, but hey, if Carlos thought so._

_Carlos came over to him then, leaning close enough that Troy could feel his breath on his face. “You know, Tulo,” Carlos said, “you’re cute, but you’re not that bright sometimes.” Carlos put his hand on Troy’s face and kissed him._

_Troy’s brain went numb. He thought,_ CarGo kissed me _. And then he thought,_ I think CarGo just insulted me _._

_“I’m not_ stupid _,” Troy said._

_Carlos threw back his head and laughed. Then he kissed him again, and kept kissing him, and Troy kissed back. Over and over._

_Nowadays Troy mostly remembers how warm his lips were._

-

Carlos hits a home run in the sixth inning and keeps his head down while he jogs the bases. Troy keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, so if Carlos does so much as glance his way, Troy won’t notice.

God, it really kind of sucks to be on the other team when Carlos does that.

They lose nine to five, and Troy isn’t that cut up about it. Two games to go in the series, and losing to an NL team isn’t going to hurt the Blue Jays much.

Nolan and Charlie catch up with him on his way out and ask if he wants to grab a drink, but Troy declines, citing jet lag (it’s much later in Toronto), though he knows really he just has other things to do.

Troy lingers in the parking lot at Coors Field, figuring he’ll get an Uber regardless of where he ends up going. He tosses his cell phone from hand to hand, debating what his plan is, then finally just dials Carlos’s number and hopes Carlos hasn’t changed it.

It rings for a long time and Troy is about to hang up, but at the last second Carlos actually answers. “Hi, Troy.”

“Hey.” Troy’s plan is mostly that he doesn’t have one. Something about Carlos usually makes any plans he thought he had go out the window, anyway. However, if he knows Carlos he knows he’ll be on the defensive, so that’s the direction Troy leans. “You avoiding me or what?”

Long silence, then: “Some people understand if they’re being avoided maybe they ought to stay away.”

“Yeah, well, some people’s not me, I guess.” He leans against the wall. “Look, I’m not doing anything right now – “

“I might be meeting friends,” Carlos interrupts, like this makes it final.

Troy snorts, certain he means his teammates. “Come on, CarGo, you can see them anytime. I’m here for three days.” He could say more, open himself up – _haven’t you missed me? I’ve missed you_ – but if Carlos isn’t going to then Troy certainly won’t.

Carlos is quiet for another long moment, and Troy is certain he’s going to decline. “Where?” he finally asks.

“My hotel?” It’s not ideal, but it’s better than somewhere more public.

“I’d rather not run into your teammates,” Carlos says. His voice is icy. A little bitter.

“Fine. You pick, then.”

Carlos sighs with the air of one terribly inconvenienced. “I guess you can come over.”

“Can I?” Troy asks, because Carlos sounds like he doesn’t really want him to.

“Just to talk, Troy.”

“Yeah, I know. Want me to bring some food, though?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I’m starving, so I’m gonna.”

“Fine. You know where you’re going?”

Troy rolls his eyes. “Long as you haven’t moved.”

“I haven’t.”

“See you soon, then.”

Carlos makes some kind of noise in affirmation, then hangs up.

-

_July 27, 2015, 11 p.m._

_Troy knocks on Carlos’s hotel room door even though he shouldn’t. He has too much to do. He has places to go (like, Toronto, specifically) and he shouldn’t even bother with – whatever this is._

_He doesn’t know why he’s here._

_Carlos lets him in and he’s already eyeing Troy like he knows something is wrong. “Why did Walt pull you in the bottom of the ninth?”_

_Troy thinks about telling him. He’s going to find out tomorrow, anyway – maybe tonight if Twitter gets wind of this. “It’s nothing. Precaution.” It’s not really a lie, technically, since it wouldn’t be a great look if the Rockies let him get hurt right before sending him to the Blue Jays. Here’s the star shortstop you ordered, oh, didn’t you hear? He comes pre-injured!_

_He tries to walk past Carlos for the mini bar but Carlos puts his hands on his chest to hold him where he is, brow furrowed. “You hurt?”_

_“CarGo, it’s nothing.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, as if to prove it. “I collided with Rizzo at first base. My ankle felt a little fucked, but it’s okay.”_

_Carlos looks at him with calm dark eyes that know he’s not telling the whole truth. “You should get off your feet, then. Sit down.”_

-

Troy picks up tacos on his way to Carlos’s, from a place he knows Carlos likes, and then he stands there outside Carlos’s door holding the greasy paper carton like a peace offering.

Maybe he should have just left well enough alone, but he’s here now, he insisted on this, so he can’t very well back away.

The light on the stoop comes on and Troy squints in the sudden brightness, feeling a little too much like he’s onstage with a spotlight trained on him, and then the door opens and Carlos lets him in.

He’s been at Carlos’s house plenty of times before, but he hadn’t really thought about how odd it would feel now. The strange familiarity of Coors Field he had prepared for, but not this.

Being back in Colorado today feels like he’s slipped back into a past life, and judging by the way Carlos is looking at him, his past life doesn’t want him here.

This kind of animosity radiating off Carlos Gonzalez is not something Troy is used to. He holds up the carton of food. “I brought tacos.”

Carlos almost smiles. “Come on.” He turns and walks into the kitchen, where he pulls a couple bottles of water out of the fridge and sets one down on the table for Troy.

Troy drops the carton on the table and pulls out a chair to sit down. “Nice job today.” He means during the game, figures Carlos knows that.

“You too.”

Troy laughs. “I went oh-for-four. You don’t have to tell me I was good when I wasn’t.”

Something flashes in Carlos’s eyes, like he thinks Troy meant something by that, but he doesn’t comment. “Defense is still there.”

Troy shrugs. “Not a lot defense can do against homers. And you pimped the shit out of it, too.”

Carlos gives him a half-smile, sitting down next to him and reaching for the to-go carton. “Did it for you.”

“I’m flattered.” He watches Carlos for a moment just to see those words sink in. As suspected, Carlos doesn’t like it, but he walked right into it. Troy has no reason to be bothered by Carlos trying to show him up, so why give Carlos any satisfaction from it?

Troy grabs a stack of napkins and throws a few at Carlos. They both dig in. “Funny, never would have known I was in your head that much.”

“You’re always in my fucking head,” Carlos mutters. It’s more vulnerability than Troy really expected to get out of Carlos. He doesn’t look at Troy when he says it, either; he’s very interested in pouring the correct amount of salsa on his taco.

“Like I said, never would have known.” Troy eats his taco quietly for a moment, then says, “You’re the one who ignored me for months.” Until today, to be precise.

-

_July 27, 2015, 11:45 p.m._

_“No, lay down on your back. Like that, yeah, that’s good.”_

_Carlos is way more concerned about Troy’s alleged ankle injury than he needs to be. Like, what, is Troy going to make it worse if he fucks too hard?_

_Carlos puts a hand on Troy’s chest to steady himself as he lowers himself onto Troy’s cock, exhaling slowly when he’s fully seated. Troy grabs Carlos by the hips, watching Carlos’s face and thinking – no, he’s not thinking about anything else right now, he’s not thinking about his conversations with Weiss and Bridich or where he has to be later. He’s here now._

_However, it’s not that easy to be present when Carlos looks like his mind is elsewhere even while he’s riding Troy’s cock. Troy gets it, he supposes. It was a stupid game, dumb loss, and Carlos homered twice and it meant nothing in the end. At the same time, Carlos can’t be this distracted over one game, especially when everyone and their mother is losing to the Cubs and their wonder rookie this year._

_(Hey, remember when that was you? the voice in his head asks. Remember how magical 2007 was and how you’ve been chasing that since?)_

_(You’re not a Colorado Rockie anymore, maybe that’s why the loss doesn’t bother you.)_

_“CarGo.” Troy tightens his hands on Carlos’s hips to still him and sits up, wrapping his arms around Carlos’s waist to draw him closer. “What’s the matter?”_

_Troy is holding Carlos too tight for him to move much, and Troy’s dick can’t really get much deeper inside him, but Carlos is still grinding down, trying to keep the friction going, making Troy want to forget he’s trying to ask him a question, want to just flip him over and fuck him until he_ has _to pay attention to him. “CarGo,” Troy says. He’s trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out as a groan and he knows he doesn’t sound annoyed at all._

_Carlos smiles and leans in to kiss him, his lips hot on Troy’s, biting them and licking into his mouth and still moving his hips – it’s not enough but it’s okay, Troy doesn’t care, take it slow, make it last._

_Carlos’s eyes are still somewhere else and when he stops kissing Troy he bites his own lower lip, worrying at it like something’s bothering him._

_“You okay?” Troy asks._

_Carlos gives him that half-smile he gets when he doesn’t really mean it, one side of his mouth curling up but his eyes looking as worried as ever. “Yeah, I’m good.”_

_“What are you thinking about?” Troy punctuates this by thrusting into him as best he can from this angle and Carlos gasps, his eyes fluttering shut, and God, he’s pretty. (God, he’s going to miss him.)_

_“Thinkin’ about you, Tulo,” Carlos says, voice strained. “Fuck else am I gonna think about?”_

_Troy digs his fingers into Carlos’s hips hard enough he can imagine them leaving marks, guiding his movements as Carlos starts riding him again. “Get the feeling your head’s somewhere else.”_

_“Then show me why it shouldn’t be.” There’s a little bit of an edge to Carlos’s voice, maybe a hint of desperation, and it cuts through Troy’s thoughts. Carlos doesn’t often sound like that._

_Troy wraps one arm around Carlos’s waist and snakes the other around his back, holding him tight as he fucks him. Carlos’s skin tastes salty with sweat, sticky on Troy’s chest, his breath is hot on Troy’s face and his eyes are squeezed shut. Troy can feel Carlos’s dick hard and leaking between them and Troy wraps his hand around it, hearing Carlos’s sharp intake of breath when he does._

_This isn’t going to last long enough._

_Troy sets his teeth into the curve where Carlos’s shoulder meets his neck, just hard enough to sting, and Carlos comes like that, hissing Troy’s name like it’s a curse._

-

“I just did what you act like you wanted.”

“CarGo, what the hell?”

The light in the kitchen is dim, casting pointed shadows on Carlos’s angular face. He has a kind of sad, resigned smile on his face. “Better this way, maybe.”

It’s so strange to look at Carlos like this. Carlos has always meant the Rockies to Troy, at least since Carlos joined the team in 2009. He’d been the face of the franchise right along with him.

Colorado had been home, Carlos had been home. The idea of Carlos being part of the faction of the Rockies organization that wanted Troy gone hurts.

There’s nothing he did to deserve this, it’s a business, Troy knows that, but he’d thought he was over feeling hurt by how the trade went down, but he isn’t. It pisses him off.

“How the fuck’s it better?” Troy demands.

Carlos snorts. “Well, you get to win. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He wanted to win with Colorado and Carlos fucking knows that. Yeah, he likes Toronto, but it’s bullshit for Carlos to say Troy wanted this. “Sure, CarGo. This is exactly what I wanted.” Moving to a new country, adjusting to a new team and a new league, trying to find housing in a hurry, and losing friends in the process? Oh yeah, this is what Troy was hoping for all along.

Carlos flicks his eyes over to them, so dark in the low light that Troy can’t even make out the pupils. He looks petulant. Upset about something he’s reluctant to admit.

Troy can’t be sorry if he doesn’t know what he’s done, and he’s pretty sure he’s done nothing. Carlos’s anger is misdirected. Troy knows he’s not always easy to get along with, especially when Carlos is the person he is (stubborn, proud, competitive, just like Troy), but he’s never done anything to hurt him. Unless Carlos really does think he wanted to leave?

 “I didn’t, like, request a fucking trade,” Troy says. “It kind of sucks you’d think I did.”

“No, I know you didn’t,” Carlos says lightly.

Troy slouches in his chair. “So you did read my texts.” He sent a bunch after he was traded, started maybe a week or two after – first just to say hey, ask how Carlos was doing, then when Carlos didn’t respond and didn’t respond Troy had started to worry he was mad, even asked Nolan if Carlos had changed his number. He’d sent a text that said something like “ _don’t know if somebody’s spreading shit, but I didn’t request a trade I didn’t want to go_ ” and Carlos still didn’t answer him.

Eventually Troy stopped trying.

“You were a coward about it, Troy,” Carlos finally says.

-

_July 28, 2015, 2 a.m._

_Troy doesn’t usually sleep that well, and Carlos is often worse, but Troy manages to wait until Carlos dozes off before he gets up and starts getting dressed. Carlos shifts in his sleep, moving into the place Troy had occupied, and Troy’s heart hurts._

_He left his cell phone on the bedside table and he goes back over to pick it up, and Carlos stirs again. “Tulo.”_

_Troy shoves his phone in his pocket. “Go back to sleep, CarGo.”_

_Carlos isn’t really awake, he’s in that half-conscious state that happens when something eases you out of sleep but it’s not enough to make you alert. He reaches out a hand and tugs at Troy’s wrist. “Just c’mere,” he mutters. “It’s too…”_

_Troy pulls away. “I gotta go.”_

_“Fine,” Carlos mumbles. He lets go of Troy and rolls over so he’s sprawled on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms and says something that might be “see you in the morning” but it’s too muffled to hear._

_“CarGo.” Troy waits to see if he’ll respond, but he’s already fallen back to sleep._

_The likelihood Carlos will even remember this happening in the morning is slim. He’ll wake up and think Troy left without saying anything._

_Maybe that was what he wanted in the first place. A clean break._

_This feels anything but clean, and Troy can’t stop berating himself for being an asshole, but it’s not enough to stop him from walking out of here. Carlos needs his sleep anyway; it’s kinder to let him._

-

“Okay,” Troy says. “I get it, I shouldn’t have just left like that.”

“If you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t have,” Carlos says evenly.

Carlos has plenty of reason to think that. Troy heaves a sigh, tilting his chair back to balance on the back two legs. Carlos will never cut Troy an inch of slack, which shouldn’t bother him because he wouldn’t for Carlos either, but he had to work so hard to even get Carlos to agree to meet him, and he doesn’t know why he’s throwing all this effort into something that’s clearly too badly soured by misunderstanding and bad faith.

Maybe he should wash his hands of the whole situation, but Carlos agreed to let him come over, even if Troy had to fight for it. If Carlos thought there was nothing left to salvage, he would have told Troy good night and spent the rest of this series ignoring him like he has for nearly a year.

“You never gave me a chance to explain,” Troy says.

“What am I doing now?”

_(You’ve been fuming for a year, CarGo. What can I say now that will erase all of that?)_

“I understand,” Carlos goes on, each word feeling forced like he can barely make himself spit them out, “that it was hard for you. What happened. But you have to consider – how do you think I felt? I found out the next day from Nolan before the game, he texted me asking if it was true, and I didn’t know. I hadn’t even looked online. It would have been nice to have heard it from you.”

“Sorry if you being embarrassed wasn’t exactly top of my list of priorities at the time,” Troy says sharply. 

“It’s not about being embarrassed.”

“Then what the hell is this about?” Troy snaps. “You’ve been looking daggers at me since I got here, and you wouldn’t even do _that_ at the ballpark today.” Carlos glares at him again, but doesn’t say anything, so Troy says, “I can’t read your fucking mind.”

“Do you think I’m that stupid that I didn’t have a clue what was going on when you came over that night?” Carlos has a napkin balled up in his hands, and he’s shredding it rather than look at Troy. “I heard all the rumors. Thought maybe last year would be the year, and you show up right before the trade deadline after you got pulled from that game – Tulo, I almost hoped you were hurt. I know it sounds bad, but I did.”

In a weird way, Troy kind of likes that he’d hoped that.

Carlos crumples up the napkin shreds and pitches the ball at Troy. It bounces off his forehead. “You had all this opportunity to tell me the truth that night and you didn’t. You let me fall asleep and walked out before morning.”

Troy bats the napkin ball away. “Can you blame me for wanting a distraction?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Carlos’s eyes flash hot with anger again. “That’s not what I’m for!”

“You _know_ I don’t mean it that way.” This is hard enough without Carlos willfully misinterpreting his words. “I didn’t think about it like that, I just wanted – like, one last fucking night before everything changed, and I – “

“I wouldn’t have treated you different, you know,” Carlos says, but the thing is that he would have, if Troy had told him then and there Carlos still would have spent the whole night looking at him with worried eyes. “I knew as soon as you showed up you were probably gone, I just hoped you’d tell me.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s genuine, but Troy can’t hold back the caveat – “But you didn’t give me a chance after I left.”

“Why should I have?”

“God, CarGo!” Troy wishes he could shake him, just get him out of his head and make him _see_. “Because you could try caring about something other than yourself and your feelings!”

Carlos smiles. It’s not a particularly pleasant one. “Well,” he says dryly, “maybe that’s something we have in common.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over them.

“I guess I hoped,” Carlos pauses, and he’s staring at the tabletop again like he can’t look at Troy when he says this, “that I meant more to you than that.” He swallows hard, like he’s about to throw up, or cry, or maybe he’s just choking on his own feelings. (Jesus Christ, Troy hopes it’s the latter.)

“Huh. Likewise,” Troy says. He taps his fingers on the wooden tabletop. Carlos wordlessly reaches across the table and put his hand over his, stilling Troy’s fingers. Troy looks at Carlos, and Carlos is still looking down.

“I missed you,” Carlos says.

“Hey, I missed you too, okay? Really.”  

“Yeah, I – “ Carlos breaks off again, finally flicking his eyes up to Troy’s face. “Sorry.”

It’s probably the best apology he’s going to wring out of him. “It’s okay, CarGo.” If their positions had been reversed – if Carlos had been the one traded instead of Troy – this could have played out exactly the same way but in reverse.

Carlos glances at the clock. “It’s late.”

“Do I need to go?” Troy asks. He’s probably been overstaying his welcome since the moment he walked in.

“You can if you want to, but you don’t have to.” Carlos’s hand is still on Troy’s.

Troy smiles a little. “CarGo, are you saying I can sleep over?”

“Just _sleeping_ , Troy.” Carlos grins too. “But if you have to be somewhere in the morning I understand.”

Troy thinks about it for a moment. It doesn’t take him long at all to make a decision.

So he stays, and falls into bed that night with Carlos next to him, and this time he’ll stay until morning.

-

_October 13 th, 2009_

_“Tulo, hey, wait!”_

_Carlos Gonzalez caught up with Troy in the players’ lot on his way out of Coors Field for the last time for the year. It was fucking freezing, worse than it was in Philly, and Carlos wasn’t dressed for the weather. His nose was pink and he shoved his hands under his arms, trying to stay warm. “You off in a hurry?”_

_“No,” Troy said vaguely. “No real hurry.” He had nowhere to be; they’d all hoped, of course, they’d still be playing baseball tonight, that they’d be playing deeper into the postseason. It didn’t work out that way, so now all Troy had left to do was clean out his locker and try to enjoy the winter._

_“Good.” Carlos shivered in the frigid October air but smiled at Troy bright as ever. “You didn’t think you were gonna leave without saying bye, did you?”_

_Troy shrugged. “Didn’t know you were waiting on me.”_

_“Don’t be stupid. Yes, you did.” Carlos laughed. “Why you lookin’ so down?”_

_Troy didn’t really know what to say. “We just lost the division series, CarGo.” Not only that, but Troy had struck out to end it. Two on, two out, bottom nine – those situations were the kind that Troy was supposed to come through in. A single would have tied it, a double would have won the game._

_That was how baseball went, Troy supposed. You dream about these moments that are supposed to turn out to be everything, and they end up being just another game. Most of the time, you’re not the hero. You’re just the fool that strikes out to eliminate your team from the playoffs._

_“Yeah,” Carlos said seriously. “Don’t worry, Tulo. You got plenty of time ahead of you. Plenty more strikeouts ahead of you too.”_

_It took a moment to realize Carlos was joking, then he shoved Carlos’s shoulder. “Not funny!” he growled as Carlos laughed._

_“Lighten up, Tulo!” He was still smiling. Troy didn’t understand how he did that, let a loss like that roll off him so easily. “So it’s not our year, man, who cares? It sucks, but we’re a good team.” Mischief flashed in his eyes. “And with you and me here for the next – “ He waved a hand to indicate the indefiniteness of their future with the Rockies, “ – five years, more, whatever, I don’t know. You know what we’re capable of! You know what we can do.”_

_Carlos rubbed his nose, still pink with cold, and Troy wanted to kiss him again like on the roof in Philadelphia. They hadn’t said a word about it after that night – hadn’t had time, more than anything – but now it almost felt like it had been a dream and Troy wanted to prove it wasn’t. He cleared his throat. “Hey, um.”_

_“Hey um – what?” Carlos imitated his voice in a playful, mocking way._

_Troy shook his head. “Don’t you have a birthday coming up?”_

_Carlos smiled. “Yeah, I do. Didn’t you just have one? Quarter century or something like that?”_

_Leave it to Carlos to put it that way. “Yeah. Well, listen, if you’re not busy – “ Carlos was already grinning more broadly, and Troy cleared his throat again. “If you’re not busy, you wanna stick around a few days before we go home?”_

_Carlos nodded. “Yeah. I do.”_

_They deserved to celebrate something, right?_

_Troy jerked his head toward his car. “Come on, get in. You’re freezing.”_

_Troy started up the engine once they were in the car and watched Carlos breathe onto his cold hands, trying to warm up. Once again, he can’t do much to hide the smile on his face._

_Carlos was right. However this season ended, they still had nothing but time._

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't follow the Rockies carefully in 2009 (busy being the then-long-suffering Cubs fan I'll always be at heart) so for the flashbacks I watched highlights of that NLDS and it hurt my heart.
> 
> [tumblr](https://on-a-kiss-god-knows.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
